


Good deeds done

by maybeillride



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, And is on the football team, And seeing how they end up the same :), Cat!Nagisa, Gen, Getting Together, God knows what i did with poor Sousuke lol, Halloween Costumes, Haru and Nagisa are goofballs at Iwatobi, I just love screwing w canon apparently, I just love the 'domino effects' of starting these guys off differently, M/M, Makoto goes to Samezuka with Rin, Oops - i forgot, Policeman!Rin, Prompt Fic, Thank you dear!, cat!Haru, fireman!makoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 10:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4663179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeillride/pseuds/maybeillride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto rescues a – snarky, pain-in-the-ass – cat from a tree. Who rescues him right back.</p><p>For Daxii’s perfect prompt: Makoto and Haru meet at a Halloween party. Makoto’s a fireman and Haru’s a cat. Go.</p><p>THANK YOU DEAR <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good deeds done

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daxii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daxii/gifts).



> Do yourself a favor: when you're done here, dial on over to Daxii's page (if you haven't) and feast upon the fabulousness within :D

“Oooooh…!!! _Fire_ man!” The girl slurs her words up to Makoto and she’s so gone, he can perfectly suss out what she’s drinking (light beer, by the smell of it, sour and definitely not Makoto’s cup of … well, alcohol). She drops him a flirty wink and, in a move he’s got three (four?) times so far tonight, reaches up and cups one of his bare pecs.

“Emi!!” her apparently more-sober friend hisses, pulling the hand away. The two are both in matching angel costumes – classic, sorta demure, with long nightgown-style white dresses and tinsel halos and wings, the whole bit. So the contrast is funny enough, and the quasi-pass at his almost total nakedness familiar enough, he just forces a chuckle and shakes his head.

“It’s okay. I’m pretty used to it by now. You know when I opened the costume package, I was so confused, I was like reading the label and shaking it going ‘Where the hell is the shirt?’”

The drunk one laughs too loud but her babysitter snorts too and that’s when he sees it, he’s got ‘em both, their eyes glimmering up in differing states of coherence. His cue.

“Well, ladies, I hope you have a fun night,” he says swiftly but smoothly enough he knows they won’t take it as a rejection. He can’t resist leaning in just a hair closer and speaking a shade quieter. “And be careful, okay?”

“You, too!” He’s surprised it’s SoberGirl emphatically answering him back. He bets he’s dealing with another oldest sibling.

Nodding to them, he keeps his tenuous grip on the three Solo cups balanced between his hands and continues weaving back to the den. The house is a freaking _zoo._ The entire third-year classes of both Samezuka and Iwatobi have to be there and there’s so many kids shoved in, sweaty and tipsy and jumping and _loud,_ there has to be a healthy chunk of the second years too and maybe even some other schools represented.

… _which_ is just perfection. Cause what better way to avoid attention than showing up in … what he’s wearing tonight.

He _knew_ he was fucked when Rin flounced into their dorm room, holding two plastic costume bags with the labels suspiciously turned in, the look on his face like a big-game hunter after landing … an elk, or something (?).

“…ohhhh, Mak, you are gonna _love_ me. So. Much.”

Makoto had dropped his reading glasses with what he hoped was his blankest expression, looking up from his homework-avoiding manga on the top bunk.

“Liar,” he decided instantly. “You _know_ I’m not a fan of, ya know, drunken parties, Rin. You know this. You don’t care, apparently.”

Rin came over and swung the bags, viciously, landing both on his abdomen hard enough Makoto made a little embarrassing “oof!”

“ _You_ know how much I ‘worship and adore’ drinking myself, ya big baby. So no. You’re gonna be in fine hands, don’t worry. Sei’s even gonna come back and go with us!”

“Mikoshiba-san?” Makoto asked, genuinely surprised. That was the first unexpected nugget to their upcoming plans. It would be great to see him again; being on the football team, he hadn’t gotten a chance to be as close to the upbeat guy as Rin had, slaving away as his second-in-command in Same’s swim team. But they’d all hung out, especially since Seijuuro had gone away to university and had quietly started dating Rin long-distance, and Makoto’d always felt a little, imperceptible _click_ whenever he got a chance to talk with the guy. He liked Seijuuro’s energy.

The second surprise, about 700% less pleasant, came fast after as he sat up in bed to inspect what Rin had found at the seasonal costume shop.

“…I’m gonna be a cop? God, I’m not really the ‘law and order’ type, Rin, but okay, I guess.” He squinted at the label as Rin made some kind of suppressed noise. “Uh, but you got the sizing all wrong…”

Rin finally busted out laughing at that point and – obnoxiously – grabbed the cop bag away … leaving him with the other. “Check behind door #2, my friend.”

Makoto knew – KNEW – he was fucked at that very moment, squinting dangerously up, but with a sense of impending doom looked back down anyway to see just how bad it was.

“…’Fireman,’” he read slowly.

“Nnnnnope!” Rin’s voice was triumphant even wracked with laughter. “Try again.”

Makoto sighed before humoring his roommate and best friend. “’SEXY Fireman.’”

Rin shook the bed helplessly, holding on to stay standing as Makoto pulled out the grand total of what his “costume” entailed. Cheap plastic hat, bright red with a flashy “SF” on the front (for Super Fireman or something else, he didn’t know). Red suspenders. Black … _booty_ shorts, a little reflective strip down each side so short it was almost funny. A pair of rubber boots, also red. And a big prop axe.

He turned the bag over to stare at the (ridiculously built and oiled) guy wearing the thing on the front. Nope, no shirt there, either.

Rin was crying when Makoto finally looked up.

 _So_ the trip from the kitchen back to the couches where he’d left the rest of his party is … delightful. The number of aggressive pec-cups he gets is at least _countable;_ Makoto has no idea many times his ass has been grabbed at the party so far in the stupid, microscopic shorts, and it’s only getting worse as the night wears on and inhibitions are steadily making their exit. It’s all girls, at least as far as he can tell, but it isn’t like he’s looking to score tonight anyway. The whole situation is just – too loud, too packed, too frantic and _awkward_ to get him in any sort of flirty mood with any sort of person.

“Oh, _God,_ ” he sighs once he’s finally, safely at the big leather couch, bending down to let Seijuuro and Rin take their cups before plopping next to Rin. Strangely, Rin actually has sympathy or even a trace of guilt in his eyes and immediately covers it up with an overzealous attack on his cranberry drink, but the older redhead just lets loose with his giant laugh.

“Did we send the lamb into the lion’s den?” he exclaims, just a line below roaring himself. Makoto’s thinking he should be embarrassed, but that nerve’s been mashed so hard all night he’s thrown up his metaphoric hands and just said “fuck it” to the whole thing.

Rin, bless him, seems to have taken up that abandoned impulse for him. “Sei, come on. I’m … having second thoughts about this ‘let’s tart Makoto up’ plan. Not that there’s anything we can do about it now.”

“It was a _plan_??” Makoto half-gapes, and Rin just sends his deer in the headlights look – _how does he get his eyes so giant?_ – that Makoto knows means he’s caught.

“Well … yeah! You’re a babe, Makoto. Better yet you’re a good sport. I see that costume on the wall and I about _flipped._ It had to be yours. There was no alternative.”

“But somehow you found about 75% more fabric coverage in yours. A size down.”

“Funny thing, huh!” Rin laughs nervously.

Makoto takes a reflexive gulp of the over-the-top thing the kid in the kitchen had made for him – Tequila Sunrise, he thinks he said – desperate for anything to make all this feel normal. It’s so strong he’s forced to lean out and set it on the coffee table after one drink.

Rin is – uh oh – leaning in too, to earnestly put a hand on Makoto’s leg. For the umpteenth time, he mourns the booty shorts.

“I mean it though, Makoto. You _are_ a babe _and_ a good sport. That’s such a good combo. And I want you happy, okay? I get the feeling you aren’t.”

“What the hell, Rin?? How am I not happy??” he demands, shocked at the unfiltered emotion shoving his words out with barely a drop of alcohol in his system. Rin lowers his cup and glares at him in full-concern mode. His _own_ brand of “big-brother,” different than Makoto’s and still instantly recognizable.

“A guy can tell after knowing you as long as I have, okay? I dunno if this is something you’ve been feeling lately or maybe it’s been going on forever and you’re a better actor than even I give you credit for.” The hand squishing insistently on his thigh feels like ice as Makoto’s attacked by a whole-body flush, stupidly staring at the beloved and concerned face of his friend and his surprisingly subdued boyfriend close to him.

_Boyfriend._

“Well first of all, maybe I don’t _need_ to be hooked up with someone to be okay! There are people out there like that! Who can be happy with their friends.” _And why, why are we doing this at a stupid party. At a COSTUME party. Please drop it…_

Rin either can’t read his faint signals or chooses not to, too determined to stop now. He moves the hand down to Makoto’s knee and gives it a tender pat.

“But you aren’t one of those people. And you _aren’t_ okay, Makoto. I just … thought getting you out, having a little fun with it, might get you seen by people. By the _right_ person for you. Cause you need it!” Rin’s staring at him so seriously, and Seijuuro’s so silent, Makoto finally can’t take it.

He bounces up, and feels almost drunk after all at how disproportionately _tall_ he is, almost looming over the two shocked faces on the low couch.

His voice is low and angry. “There _is_ no ‘right person’ for me. And if they do exist out there, somewhere, they sure as hell aren’t at this party.”

There’s nothing left to say and there’s no way he can stay to watch their looks of surprise flip over to anger, or worse, pity, so he turns and is amazed to find a door to the backyard, right where he needs it. Like an answer to a wish.

The meaningless burble of the party is overlaid by Rin’s “–wait!!” but the door wheezes shut and the October night is eerily lit by a waning moon, and the richer-than-God Samezuka kid hosting the party has a yard even bigger than the house, choked with sakura. He moves quickly away from the house and knows that he’s almost instantly hidden, the thumping and bright windows and his worried friends behind him.

He has no intention of leaving them; he could sure find his way back to the dorms but he would never want to worry them even though he would text to let them know (his phone thankfully somehow slim enough to fit in his back pocket). He just left without any coherent thought; the narrator in his head helpfully – and not so helpfully – guiding his every step throwing up her hands and turning away so fast, he felt like a body without a brain, for those few disorienting, almost scary moments.

It was too close to home. Rin’s words, his observations. Of _course_ he needs someone. Doesn’t everyone?? Makoto doesn’t care how, or what that would even look like – hell, if the person can even speak Japanese. He just knows it’s true. His parents showed him the way. Even their fights are … caring. Because they only fight about the stuff that matters. Who did the dishes, who forgot to pay this bill that month? Makoto can’t remember that kind of bickering. _You’re staying up too late, you have an early morning. Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong. I’m worried about Makoto, he does so much._

That’s the model of love that he knows. That’s what he wants. That’s what he’s never, ever found, these three busy and memorable but somehow still … empty years of high school. So many people like him. A couple of people – Rin most of all – probably love him.

Nobody really, really understands him.

He somehow ends up under the last, bare tree before the backyard opens up to a little brook, a real, dark woods bumping up against that. He has no idea how far he’s walked and hopes he’s even still on the family’s property. He’s just glad he’s so isolated, to safely allow the hot, embarrassed tears to squeeze down his cheeks. They’re mostly silent, but he can’t keep these hard, gasping breaths quiet as he gets to the end of each cycle, the tears almost burning his face. The pretty scene before him blurs.

“Hey,” he finally hears after some unknown time, somewhere above him (???).

“What - ??” Makoto blurts out, so startled he takes a giant step back –

…and trips over the stupid, _stupid_ boots, his momentum so … energetic his legs fly up and one foot actually flies out (the things being a little too big). He lands with zero grace on his ass in the grass. He’s suddenly glad the fake axe was light enough to fly up too on his tool belt and land next to him, instead of impaling him. Which would’ve just put the cherry on this goddamn sundae of a night.

“You okay?” Same voice, low and quiet, and – weirdly – just concerned, no tinge of laughter anywhere. If anyone saw Makoto’s fall – hell, if _Makoto_ saw Makoto’s fall – he’d assume laughing would be mandatory. A simple reflex even if they didn’t think it was funny. Not this guy, apparently.

And it _is_ a guy, Makoto’s sure, even as he can’t see a thing, straining up into where the sakura branches fade into darkness.

He gives up and struggles to his feet, pulling his boot back on before he grabs the lowest branches, craning his neck to look up.

“Uh … yeah, I’m fine, thanks. Is – this sounds really dumb, but is there really someone up there? Cause you could fool me and it’s, you know, Halloween, and … oh, God…” He drops his head in growing mortification at his own moment of grade-school weakness, but almost immediately pops it up again, the slight rustling and shaking of the little tree announcing that the mystery dude is actually coming down.

…down, in sight, anyway, if not joining Makoto on the ground, the guy settling himself just out of reach above him but at least in a position where they can see each other to talk.

And look at him, Makoto does, in a sudden rush like he’s gulping a tall glass of lemonade after working in the yard on a hot day. He isn’t even really “checking the guy out,” that’s the funny thing. It’s just something about him; his eyes notice something totally new and worth taking in, so they do, flash-memorizing his compact form and just _darkness_ overall. Some of that is his sleek black hair. Most of it is the – shamelessly sexy – black cat costume he’s in, from the pair of furry ears to the _skintight_ bodysuit to the tall black boots, swinging above Makoto’s head, crossed neatly at the ankle. Apparently he hasn’t spared a detail. There’s a furry tail curling down, and sharp claws on the tips of his black gloves, resting calmly on his knees.

And cat makeup, too, as Makoto pulls his gaze back up – a little triangle nose, whiskers, and a big sweep of eyeliner on these giant light eyes that give Makoto the odd impression this guy is staring into his soul.

No, not “give.” _Intensify._ Either CatBoy really is some Halloween spirit sent to fuck with him, or something absolutely uncanny is going on. For the first time in Makoto’s life (???).

The guy breaks their increasing silence, and Makoto’s glad, unsure if he’d even be up to it. “Hi,” he says, so calmly, like he sees absolutely nothing bizarre about their situation. Like they’re meeting in the Samezuka library or something. Makoto tilts his head in confusion but only feels his investment in whatever _this_ is growing.

“Hi! I’m – I’m really sorry to come busting into your spot here, I swear to God I had no idea you were up there,” he says earnestly, trying out a smile. He almost can’t believe his luck when it works, it works. The guy’s smile back is tiny and crooked.

 _And pretty,_ his narrator says, back in action but definitely sounding a little … punch-drunk?? _Just like the rest of him._

“Uh, I think it’s obvious you didn’t know I was up there,” the guy answers, and even with the little Mona Lisa smile Makoto _still_ gets no sense the guy’s making fun of his amazing grace. The little shot of – _joy –_ that pulses through him is intense and wholly unexpected, and he’s giggling before he knows it. _Giggling!_

“Nah, guess you’re right. Pretty awesome fall though, don’t you think?”

“You could do stunt work. _Comedy_ stunt work,” CatBoy says so seriously, Makoto’s giggles flip over to all-out peals of real, open laughter, like they’re flying from him totally outside his control. It feels so good. It sorta hurts, too, his head’s throbbing a little when he’s finally done, but he doesn’t mind. The guy’s hiding his smile with his paw when Makoto finally looks up.

“So you gonna tell me your name, or do I have to keep calling you ‘CatBoy’ in my head here?” Makoto jokes, and that feels outside his control too. Since when is he brash? When does he _demand_ introductions of anyone? The pretty, pretty eyes squint in apparent amusement over the dangerous hooks of his claws.

“…only if you tell me yours first. I’m getting sick of having to use HotPants.”

Makoto scoffs, playfully. “HotPants?? Seriously.”

“It’s getting old. I’m tired of objectifying you like this.”

Makoto just has to stare up again for a few long, long seconds, as the ( _impossibly_ ) pretty cat-boy stretches his arms up to grab a higher branch, innocently swinging his legs. And looking … delighted.

_Beaten. At my own, sad game._

“You got me. I’m Makoto.” _…no last name??_ his narrator stammers, flustered.

 _Why waste time?_ he answers, a warm feeling growing in his chest.

The cat-boy smiles, and this is barely-there, squint-to-see it, but Makoto gets a feeling it’s the realest one so far. “Mmm. Has a nice sound. ‘Makoto.’” The ears bob as he nods, like he’s satisfied, and Makoto finds himself having to hold tighter to the sakura branches.

“…well? You gonna trade? Don’t you think CatBoy’s a little disrespectful?”

“I like cats. Don’t you like cats?” He seems genuinely confused and Makoto’s laughing again.

“Yeah! Yeah, I love cats – or I guess you could say, they love _me._ It’s so weird. We live in this sorta busy area, but I can walk down any street in the neighborhood and bam. Swarmed with cats.”

“Haru,” the boy says out of nowhere, and his almost-unearthly eyes are just _fixated_ on Makoto’s.

“…Haru? Oh – Oh! Wow, I love it!” He shakes his head up. “What the hell were our parents both thinking. Naming boys after girls. I dunno if that’s because my folks wanted a girl to start or what. They refuse to say.” He finds himself creeping a hair closer … just a few little shuffled steps. Haru ( _Haru_ ) is still out of reach, but he can’t help himself.

“What about you? Your folks wanted a girl?”

Haru shrugs, seeming uncomfortable for the first time. “Mmm. Hard to tell whatmy parents _ever_ want.”

Makoto can almost taste the change in tone and grabs the thread of conversation back, not wanting to make this beautiful guy sad. Not wanting to wreck this … _thing_ that’s inexplicably happening.

“Oh, I get that. That’s okay. You know, I think this is an epidemic, or something…? My best friend – well, he’s inside – and his name is _Rin._ You believe that??”

Bingo – Haru’s squinting at him, face relaxed again, and Makoto can’t believe it: he feels _triumphant._

“Epidemic confirmed. _My_ best friend who dragged me here is Nagisa.”

“Oh my God. That’s it, we all gotta get together,” Makoto enthuses, not pausing to wonder how fast he’s moving or how weird it is to propose a big get-together the first time you meet someone and _not giving a shit._ “Where is the mysterious Nagisa?”

“ _Nagisa_ is inside in a matching catsuit flirting his little ass off,” Haru almost growls, and Makoto doesn’t know if it’s the sudden in-your-face image or the similarity to his own situation or apparently even emotion tonight – he reaches a hand out to Haru’s foot. He misses, of course, but that’s okay.

“Oh God, me too!” he blurts, then shakes his head as Haru snorts. “NO, no, none of my friends are here in a matching, uh –”

“Sexy fireman costume,” Haru says blandly.

“Did your, um, Nagisa force you to wear that?” he suddenly has to know, and the _knowing_ on Haru’s face tells him he hit it dead-on. Again.

“Not that you don’t look good in it. I get the feeling cats are your thing,” he goes on without a thought and Haru’s knowing look turns thoughtful, and Makoto sorta wants to die.

“ _I_ get the feeling helping people is your thing,” he finally says, slowly, and Makoto can only smile up, totally out of words. And for some reason, that’s okay.

He swallows, and his smile feels strong on his face, and the hand that made its reflexive reach for Haru goes back up in the air … and stays.

“Hey. You got me. So I was wondering, would you let me do the first fireman thing I’ve had a chance to do all night?”

“Rescue a cat from a tree?” Haru deadpans, like they planned it.

Makoto doesn’t laugh. “Yeah. I was getting ready to ditch this party anyway. You wanna join me?”

It’s almost funny, how Haru doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t know Makoto from Adam. Makoto could be a pervert. Makoto could be a serial killer. Hell, Makoto could be a perverted serial killer crashing the party looking for nubile high school flesh on which to practice his unholy dark arts.

Haru apparently knows he isn’t, or maybe even doesn’t care. He slithers a branch down and – oh – he’s in Makoto’s reach, sliding off and into Makoto’s waiting hands. Makoto, as promised, catches him under the arms and lowers him gently to the ground.

They just stand for a minute or so, Makoto letting his hands drift down the soft fabric of the catsuit (velvet??) to land on Haru’s hips, Haru’s hands resting on his forearms. Both of them making this … silent eye contact, and Makoto’s immediately struck by how little Haru is. He was “compact” in the tree, but down here on the same level, standing so close to Makoto who’s tall himself, Haru is … neat. Slim. Sorta – dainty, like a cat, just like he’s … ridiculously built, like a football player. Or a fireman.

Haru looks away then, breaking the little spell they’re under, and Makoto’s okay with that. He’s glad for the excuse to take a step back, digging his cellphone out of his pocket where it’s apparently suctioned itself against his buttcheek.

He knows a phone call will be pointless in the noise – and is glad Rin’s a prolific texter anyway, to let him get across this new and scary tightrope walk with minimal interruption. Haru stands quietly to the side as he texts, eyes down, arms crossed, that tiny Mona Lisa smile back.

_Rin – something unexpected happened out here in the yard and I’m gonna leave now, so sorry. I – met someone out here, I think he’s really cool and we’re gonna take off. If you happen to see a flirty little guy in a black cat costume can you tell him the same? Don’t worry, he’ll probably come to you haha._

_…thanks <3\. Hope you and Sei have a nice night, ttyl_

He crams it back in his pocket after hitting Send and Haru’s smirks up at him.

“…what??”

“God, you’re an epic texter.”

“Speaking of, you better let your friend know you’re ditching him,” Makoto tells him with authority, working the phone back out. He has no idea how he knows Haru isn’t carrying one. It might be the utter lack of visible pockets anywhere on his person.

Haru rolls those eyes and sighs, but the smile doesn’t falter as he accepts the phone. “Okay, _Mamakoto._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Huh.  
> I intended this to be a frothy flirt-fest with zero canon or feels or even MakoHaruness, really.  
> I got … this.  
> HA!  
> I guess even when you try, you just can’t mess with the MakoHaru ;)
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading! <3


End file.
